Hell Found Me
by zeppx
Summary: I don't even know how to describe this. There's a bar, creepy voice, Dean freaking out and Cas maybe sort of in a way rescuing him.


So, I wrote this thing a reeeeally long time ago for a contest back in high school. The prompt was to use the phrase "hell found me" in any kind of way and for me, this is what happened. Well sort of. I've changed it around a little since it kinda popped into my head that hey, this could be a pretty good Supernatural fic, and since I'm a giant nerd like that, I rewrote in Dean's view and added in some Cas at the end and voila. Anyway, I've always liked how I managed to write it out, for some reason I've never been able to write like this again. More than frustrating. Anywho! Enough babbling, I bring you the fic now.

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"Hell found me." The voice seemed to work its way through the people, slipping between the bodies, moving over heads and around feet. It entered his ears and he looked around, expecting to see some crazy old guy sitting at the bar, drink in front him, staring sightlessly at a blank wall.

"Hell found me." That voice again, it slipped through the smoky atmosphere of the bar, like wet soap in your hands. Dean paused in his awkward shuffle and looked at the people surrounding him, examining them for a few moments before moving on to the next face, the business man with his tie loosened around his neck, staring into his drink. The woman in the nice dress, flitting from man to man like a hummingbird to flowers, the quiet, good looking guy sitting by himself at the bar, drink in hand. He knew none of these people and they didn't know him, so why was he so intrigued? Why was this voice finding him of all people in the darkness, everyone was out on the Friday night, enjoying after work drinks with friends. Dean was no one special here, yet this voice was whispering in his ear, urging him forward and no one else seemed to hear it.

"Hell found me, the day I was born." The voice came from his right, whispered along the smoky air, Dean spun, and there was no one there.

Why had he even come in here? There was no reason to be here, Sam was back at the hotel buried in his research, Cas was off doing his God hunt and Dean had gone out to get dinner from the diner down the street. Yet here he was, wandering into a bar, food forgotten, strange voice calling to him through the din.

Dean pushed his way through the people, ignoring the loud thumping music, trying to find the source of the strange voice.

There was a touch on his arm, a whisper in his ear, "Hell found me, the day I met you." Dean spun to where the voice had come from, prepared to give a good talking to whoever was doing this. Was it Cas? It sounded like something Cas would say, but the angel had no need to be saying any of this to Dean, would just be talking to him face to face instead of luring him into strange bars just to mess with his head.

Dean sighed and turned back towards the bar, no one was watching him, no one was following him and no one was talking to him. No one that he could see anyway, he was prepared to leave, making up his mind to turn around and leave. They all needed some food and there was a decent looking Thai restaurant right down the street, he could go back to the hotel, eat his food, drink his beer and pester Cas via text message until the angel got annoyed enough to just appear in the room to talk face to face.

His mind made up, Dean made for the exit. He didn't get very far when a hand grabbed his arm and the voice snapped, "Hell has found you." Dean spun again, was greeted with no one, he spun in the other direction, eyes watering from the cigarette smoke hanging in the air, head throbbing to the beat of the music. No one was paying him attention; he just wanted to get out of here. Panic was wrapping around his heart like cold fingers, his breaths were coming quick and panicked, catching in his throat and rushing from his mouth in gasps.

"Hell is here, all around you." Damn that voice! It was like water running through your hands, no matter how hard you try to keep it; it always slips away, back to where it belongs and no matter how hard he searched he couldn't find its owner. Dean shoved through the people, nearly gagging on the smell of stale beer and body odor.

The urgent need to get out of here, to be out in the open space of the night was overwhelming, sweat was forming on his forehead, the room felt smaller and felt like it was only getting smaller from that point on. Dean pushed through the mass of bodies, hands shaking, knees weak, he had no idea why he was suddenly so panicky; he just had to get out. He spotted the door finally through his blurred vision and the smoky haze; he rushed towards it, nearly falling over himself more than once.

"Hell is right in front of you." He jerked from the voice, the feeling of icy fingers on the back of his neck and spun around once more, door forgotten. Dean jumped at the familiar blue eyes staring at him, "Cas, what the hell?"

"Dean, you need to leave."

"Yeah, I got that."

"_Now_, Dean." Cas shoved his shoulder, spinning him around to face the door, throwing it open. Dean stumbled out into the cool night air, pulling in fresh oxygen that was free of body odor, smoke and alcohol. He stood for a moment, enjoying the fresh air, a thick fog had rolled in while he'd been in the bar, blanketing everything with its heaviness, air thick with moisture. He turned to talk to Cas, to thank him for getting him out of there, but Cas wasn't there.

"Cas?" The door had swung shut behind him, the bass from the music thumping loudly on the other side. There was no angel beside him, there was no voice whispering in his ear and no icy fingers clutching at him, pulling him in.

The sound of music faded until there was nothing but him and the fog, the occasional sound of a car driving by.

He was alone.

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I may or may not continue on with this. Depending on what people think and if I can figure out where I kind of intend to go. Nothing really planned, meant to be a one-shot sort of deal. We'll see though.


End file.
